


Today your love, tomorrow the world.

by Kooru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Same College AU, and he really loves ushijima, oikawa is a jerk but a cute one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 11:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kooru/pseuds/Kooru
Summary: Oikawa's team wins at the nationals for the first time and he just can't wait to celebrate with his boyfriend. Luckily, Ushijima can never say no to him (college!au).





	Today your love, tomorrow the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I noticed there's a lack of ushioi here recently so I decided to give my little aport to the fandom. This is the first time I write something in english so please be kind to me, I'm my own beta because I have no friends.
> 
> Also, this is from my ushioi RP. Basically, they play at the same team and live together in a small apartment since their second year at college. They've been dating since their first year (or something like that).
> 
> The title is from that RAMONES' song.

“You should take a bath before you go to sleep.”

Oikawa’s eyes keep fixed on the screen of his iphone as his long (and still tapped) fingers are typing a new reply for his best friend. His bangs aren’t sweaty anymore and even his jersey is totally dry under his loosened tracksuit after the long ride back to the campus’ gym and then to their home, but he knows he smells right now like expensive cologne mixed with deodorant and lots of perspiration.

The tournament is finally over and while he feels completely wasted and tired from all the activity and the inmense pressure he’s been under for the last hours (weeks), at the same time there are still traces of pure adrenaline and euphoria running in his blood, as if that one feint that made them win the nationals had happened a few minutes ago. He knows that Ushijima is right —that he needs to take a bath and have some rest after so many nights with insomnia and terrible aches on his bad knee, but his fingertips are still tingling and his chest is full with emotions he probably had never experienced, so sleeping is not what he exactly wants to do on his bed right now.

He types something between the lines of “Thanks, Iwa-chan. Don’t tell my mom yet!” before throwing his phone into the messy mattress of his bed. He yawns dramatically and rolls over his back, placing his head against a pillow while he parts his legs, rubbing his body against the blankets more than the necessary, just to upset Ushijima (whom, afterall, is the one in charge of doing the laundry between them). The taller male just stares at him unexpresivelly, like he’s used to Oikawa’s old habit of taking the opposite just to fire him up (and he totally is). He’s drying his wet hair with a towell that is way smaller than the one he’s using around his hips to cover his nakedness. Oikawa doesn’t understand why his stupid boyfriend keeps on covering his parts —it’s not like he haven’t seen Ushjima in less states of dressing, but he opts to answer to the other’s advice instead of telling him how much he wants to see (and suck) his huge cock.

He’s incredibly horny. He always is after a good match, and this is not the exception. Not when he just won the fucking nationals after so many years of trying to achieve it.

“Don’t wanna,” the brunette responds lazily, putting his right hand over his exposed belly. He thinks about how his disgusting smell is going to ruin Ushijima’s clean odor, and the idea excites him more than he would admit in a loud voice. “What’s the point of cleaning myself if I’m going to get all dirty again?”

Ushijima blinks a couple of times, just like when he doesn’t get the innuendo in the setter’s words, but he still registres the way Oikawa’s hand travels from his navel to the hem of his pants. His expression hardens and his jaw tenses immediately, and the brunette takes these reactions as a green light to finally shove his hand under his clothes.

“Oikawa…”

The voice is low and dangerous. It sounded more like a warning than a simple call, but Oikawa has never feared him, even when Ushijima is now more than five centimeters taller and is way more built than him. The spiker may have more brute force than him, but they both know that the setter is the one that has the control of the situation at the end of the day.

“What?” he asks, petulantly as ever, almost ofended, “Are you going to stay there and watch me fucking myself or are you going to help me?”

From his place, Oikawa can see how the other’s respiration pauses for a briefly moment, how Ushijima’s hands closes and his knuckles turn all white because of the force he is using. An smirk dances on his lips and then he closes his dominant hand around his own cock, that is already half hard and has a bit of precum leaking from its slit. He begins to jerk of immediately, just as he likes it —fast, messy and putting slight more force around the base. His challenging brown eyes never leave Ushijima’s serious face, whos gaze is focused on the evident bulge under the setter’s pants, on the way Oikawa’s hand is moving too fucking fast around his own erection.

The ace wets his lips and finally closes the distance between them, wasting no time in climbing on the bed and making his way between the brunette’s legs. Oikawa bites his lips, the lascivous smile still intact on them, and when the taller male gets down to press his lips against his own, the setter responds right away, kissing him with the same fierce and passion. His hand slows down his motion, but Ushijima’s left one takes him by the wrist and forces him to pull out, only to grab the smaller man’s erection and give him a rough tug.

“Fucking hell,” he spats, moaning when Ushijima’s fingers presses behind his ball sack, pinching his testicles and then sliding to gently stroke the soft skin of his perineum. “You beast, don’t be too fucking rough!,” adds the setter with a lascivous moan and a proud smirk on his lips. His thighs are trembling and his erection is growing harder and bigger under the other’s touch. Clearly, he’s not upset by the harsh treatment he’s getting. On the contrary, he’s pretty content with it, because nothing excites him more than those rare moments when the always-composed Ushijima loses his mind and ravishes him senseless.

“You like it.” It’s a statement, not a question, and they both know he can’t protest against these words.

Ushijima kisses him again, rough, wet and with a lot of tongue. Oikawa’s hands fly to the other’s chest, feeling on his fingertips the small drops of water covering his boyfriend hot skin as soon as his palms press against Ushijima’s pectorals and then on his perfectly sculped abdomen that makes the brunette's mouth waters when he thinks about the wet mess he leaves in that zone every time he rides him and cums all over his boyfriend’s stomach.

They make out for more minutes than what he originally pretended, and when Oikawa breaks the kiss and takes him by the jaw, he’s all hard and he knows Ushijima is too (he can feel it against one of his legs, and he can’t wait to have that fat girth inside him). The soft skin around his entrance is all red and raw because Ushijima had rubbed against it with no more lube than the precum he just leaked, and even though Oikawa likes it rough, there’s no pleasure in having his hole all dry and scratched with calloused fingertips.

His pants and underwear are long gone and the thought of being half naked only makes things worse. It makes him remember all those times when Ushijima pulled his shorts off just enough to fuck him against the cold tiles of the gym’s bathroom stalls —all those times when Ushijima was fully dressed while he was all naked and open, desperately moaning every time the other’s pelvis colided hard and fast against his abused ass.

“Prep me,” the brunette orders, bitting Ushijima’s lower lip and then sucking it, emiting the same vulgar sounds as when his eager mouth is around the ace’s big cock, licking and slurping every inch of it.

Ushijimas groans against his mouth but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he pulls out with clear intentions of getting the lube on the nightstand, but Oikawa rapidly grabs his forearms and tugs him harshly.

“What?,” Ushijima asks, confused and visibly excited even when his severe façade stays impassive, “I was going to-”

“I changed my mind.” He gets up and trades their positions, pushing Ushijima against the matress, and the taller male again doensn’t even try to fight back. He probably knows what Oikawa has in mind, and he totally is into it. “I want to ride your face.”

The younger male makes a noise of agreement (more like a grunt) and Oikawa knows that behind that serious face, there is a man that is starving for his ass. Because if he can be sure of something, is that Ushijima Wakatoshi is probably the biggest fan of his glorious butt.

Wasting no time, Oikawa climbs ups and places one knee on either side of Ushijima’s head, standing directly over the other’s face. He squats over and pulls him by the hair, letting his body rock forwards just to press himself against the spiker’s mouth.

“Fuck me,” he commands again, no different than the orders he used to give on the court when he was the captain of his team. His ass cheeks are all parted and inviting, but Ushijima still presses his strong large hands over them, pulling them apart as he opens his mouth to blow hot air against Oikawa's hipersensitive skin.

An involuntary shiver runs across the setter’s back and he lets out a shuddering moan as the taller male’s lips proves the soft skin around his hole. He can feel the heavy breathing and the delicious wet moves Ushijima is giving all over the puffed rim, and while he hates losing and absolutely despises feeding Ushijima’s big ego, he can’t help but letting satisfied moans every time the ace’s strong tongue laps at his hole, poking fiercely with intentions of penetrating him soon.

“Fuck, your tongue,” Oikawa pants with no sense of shame at all. He’s gridding his hips against the other’s face, desperate for more of that delicious friction, just as Ushijima’s spit gets all over his ass (and not only on his hole). “Your fucking tongue.”

He’s practically smoothering Ushijima with his buttocks, and he loves every part of it. Oikawa may had dreamed about suffocating Ushijima while they both were teenagers and hated each other (or more like Oikawa hated Ushijima), but this, he quickly discovers, is way better than having his long fingers around the other’s throat (like in his wild, full-hated fantasies back in high school). It’s not like this is the first time he fucks Ushijima’s face (not when this is probably one of his favorite positions ever), but he never gets tired of it. There is power in smoothering Ushijima with his own dripping ass, and he totally loves being the one in charge of his own pleasure.

Ushijima, on the other hand, is clearly enjoying every part of it. He’s sucking diligently at the rim that is getting more swollen with every second that passes and with every lap of his dirty tongue. There is an obscene symphony created by groans, pants and the wet squelches Ushijima’s mouth makes every time he slurps his own saliva that is pooling around the setter’s flushed hole. And Oikawa can’t keep his mouth shut: he’s moaning, cursing and talking about how much he loves fucking the other’s face, about how he is going to ride his boyfriend’s dick later as a reward for being too fucking good with his tongue. He’s shamelessly stroking his own dick, never stopping the rocking of his hips, just as the other’s tongue prodes deeply at his rim, invading him as much as the setter’s tight ring of muscles lets him.

Wet auburn bangs stick on his sweaty forehead and his skin is burning even though this time he didn’t forget to turn on the AC while Ushijima still was in the shower. His mind is dizzy, fogged with pure ecstasy and desire, because Ushijima’s fingers finally had reached below, promising to combine the harsh strokes of his tongue with something more. And again, Oikawa is starving for his touch, starving for having something —anything inside him.

“Yeah, that,” he exhales, the sweet agony of not having what he wanted finally coming to an end, “Just hurry the fuck up, Ushiwaka-chan.”

As a punishment, the taller male pulls apart, trying to focus his intense gaze on the brunette’s face as he licks his own lips, drying the dirty spit that is smeared all over his mouth and chin. Oikawa lets out an exasperated huff, tugging at the other’s hair in order to get him back to his previous work.

“Don’t call me that, Oikawa.” The ace’s voice is hoarse and heavy, and Oikawa can feel his hot breath against his balls. “Or else I’m going to stop.”

Oikawa whines again, petulant and more needy than what he originally intended, and he pulls his boyfriend’s hair for a second time. Ushijima, however, is having none of it, and he shows it by pressing himself back against the blankets, moving away from the setter’s eager ass.

“What the fuck, Ushiwaka-chan?” He asks, rhetorically, making emphasis in that ridiculous nickname he gave the ace back in highschool. He knows Ushijima hates it and they had talked about it countless of times, but it's an old habit of his calling him like that when he is all riled up. And now, he refuses to surrender, even if that means he would not get what he desperately wants. “Don’t be ridiculous and just-”

“No,” interrumpts the younger one, golden irises fixed on the indignant big brown eyes that are threatening to pulverize him any time soon. “I am not going to fuck you until you behave, Oikawa.”

The brunette’s ofended scowl intensifies and he rocks his hips just by a bit, but the taller’s strong hands prevent him to move almost automatically. He keeps looking at his boyfriend in silence for what he feels like a minute (though it’s only a few seconds) until he breaks it with a frustrated sigh.

“Are you really going to be like this?”

“If you are going to be rude like this, yes.”

They stare at each other for almost a minute, both of them refusing to give in. Oikawa can still feel the other’s hot puffs of air against his own hard dick, and the tentation is almost unbearable. He just wants to have the other’s mouth against his hole again, for god’s sake.

“We just won the nationals,” he states, deepening his frown, “and you haven’t fucked me for like, I don’t know, seven weeks? The less you can do for me is to stick your fucking-

“Oikawa,” Ushijima cuts him off again, this time in a less friendly tone. He has a lot of patience, but Oikawa knows that his boyfriend is not made of steel. “This is exactly what I am talking about. You are rude and disrespectful towards me, even though I’m just trying to take care of you. If you are going to act like you still hate me, fine. But don’t expect me to give you what you want when you clearly don’t deserve it.

Something deep inside of him clenches, the guilt quickly sinking in his chest. Though he hates when Ushijima interrumpts situations like this with one of his boring lectures, he can’t deny he’s acting like a total asshole towards him. He’s well aware of his own rude antics and that Ushijima still feels a bit bad when the brunette treatens him as a burden. It’s been two years since they started dating oficially —two years of having acepted the fact that he had fallen for his worst enemy, and Oikawa still has difficulty expressing his love for his now teammate and lover. And he knows this is not a valid excuse for his actions, but old habits hardly die and he has never been a romantic by heart.

The idea of saying sorry and getting up crosses his mind, but he discards it almost immediately because: one, he’s terrible at saying sorry; and two, he’s still hard and leaking. Also, he knows a better way to compensate his faults, even though the option isn’t one of his favorites.

A new and longer sigh escapes from his mouth, and he bites his own lower lip in anticipation for what he is going to do. He draws back, his knees still pressing over the ruined blankets on either side of the taller’s head. Now, they can see each other’s faces with less effort, and Ushijima finally drops his hands to the bed.

“I’m sorry, _daddy_ ,” he says, low and sweet, almost inaudible. His head is no longer high with pride: he has lowered it a bit, and though he clearly feels awkward, there are still signs of excitement and challenge on his slightly red face. “I’ll be good from now on, I promise.”

As if his words were a lighter, Ushijima’s cold expression burns suddenly. The corners of his still wet lips tremble and his golden eyes flick with an emotion Oikawa can’t read even though he has mastered at reading his boyfriend’s expressions after almost three years of seeing him on a daily basis. It’s like when Ushijima is content and satisfied, but he also looks more aroused and threatening than ever. Oikawa knows Ushijima enjoys the addictive taste of being in charge just as much as him, and though most of the time the older is the dominant one (he likes to think of himself as a _power bottom_ ), every once in a while he doesn’t mind (a lot) letting Ushijima taking the lead.

He’s never been obedient and he’s totally sure he will never be, but right at the moment he is convinced that ignoring his big pride and being submissive for his boyfriend, has been totally worth it.

“Good boy,” the spiker whispers, proud and complaced, his fingers digging in the setter’s hipbones, grabbing him with slight force just to make him stand up. Oikawa sighs, content and relieved because Ushijima has taken the bait, and he gets up without protest, freeing his boyfriend chest and instantly missing the soft touches on his pelvic bones.

He ignores the sudden tremble of his own erection, probably caused by the sense of acknowledgement in Ushijima’s tender (but still coarse) voice. He doesn’t have a kink for this —for being praised and behaving just to get something in return, or so he wants to tell to himself. Oikawa is demanding and a tease by nature and he is more into the humillation thing (because seriously, nothing heats him up more than being called a dirty slut or a cocksucking whore), but he can’t deny he still gets a kick in his guts when Ushijima tells him that he’s beautiful and that he has done a good job.

Ushijima helps him to get ride of his last pieces of cloth, and the gesture is almost affectionate, intimate. Long and strong legs acomodate between his slightly shorter and thiner ones, which Oikawa has opened just to receive Ushijima without being told. The taller male leans on him and then the brunette can sense the other’s warm respiration hitting his flushed face, and suddenly he feels self aware, maybe a bit coy. He’s not shy, has never been (not even in his first time with Ushijima), but there is something in the intimidating aura that his boyfriend radiates that makes him feel all exposed and, at the same time, more secure than ever.

“Tooru,” Ushijima calls him, affection overflowing from his mouth. “I don’t want to harm you tonight.”

A sharp heat runs across his face, just as Ushijima’s lips presses against his forehead, removing his wet bangs just by a bit. The ace’s cautious mouth moves slowly to his nose and then to his cheeks and the edges of his lips, covering his hot skin with chaste and almost imperceptible kisses. There’s no doubt he’s no longer playing that twisted game of roles where he commands and Oikawa obbeys —he’s being sincere and genuinely afecctionate, and Oikawa doesn’t know how to react. It’s not like he doesn’t like it, because he loves it even when his stubborn nature tells him that he should feel disgusted by it, but even after these two years of being with Ushijima, he still isn’t used to his boyfriend’s sudden rushes of affection (which fortunately aren’t very frecuent, and yet).

Oikawa may act all flamboyant and cocky, but he can be reduced to a bundle of nerves when Ushijima calls him by his given name and refuses to fight against him even when he’s being an asshole.

Oikawa, who used to hate the excessive frankness in his former rival’s words, can’t help but feel light-headed and so damn in love when Ushijima puts aside the differences between them and treatens him as if he was the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He’s so in love that he begins to think he really should be grossed out by it.

“Then don’t do it,” he simply responds, closing his eyes because _this_ is too much. His shy hands tentatively reaches for Ushijima’s lower back and then he pulls him against his own chest, until both of their erections are pressed against each other and he can feel his boyfriend’s heavy weight above him. “Just do what you want.”

Ushijima takes a slow breath, and the hot air slaps again the brunette’s face. His mouth moves against the other’s, kissing him slowly, gently, never bitting nor using his tongue. Their lips are connected, but there’s no savage passion between them. Oikawa’s heart is beating so fast that is almost painful, but he doesn’t see it as an unpleasant feeling.

He asks to himself why the hell they don’t do this very often, and when he immedately gets an answer, he feels the sudden urge of slapping himself for being too damn obstinate and obnoxious with his poor, sweet boyfriend.

(He probably will regret this later, but right now he’s a pool of soft emotions that can’t even think straight).

“I want to spoil you,” Ushijima confesses after pulling away from the sweet kiss, caressing Oikawa’s right cheek with his left hand. His eyes are burning holes on Oikawa’s, but the smaller man doesn’t feel frightened at all. He can see the devotion in the spiker’s golden eyes, the warm and suffocating love that he is trying to transfer to his own hazel eyes.

And he’s in love, so in love that he almost hates himself for not being good enough for the man that is above him right now —for the only man that has seen him with those authentic eyes.

The only man that still sees the good in him even after showing him his true, complicated self.

“I want to kiss you and make love to you. I want to take my time with you.” Ushijima gives him a soft kiss in the forehead, reassuringly. “I want to give you just what you deserve, Tooru.”

 _Shut up_ , he wants to say.  _Shut up before you make me cry._

But instead of that, he kisses him right in the mouth, taking the initiative again but not with the same intentions as before. Now, he just wants to express his true emotions by the way he only knows: with actions, because even though he is a natural leader and an eloquent man, he is not as good at talking about his real feelings, about himself.

“Show me,” he finally says with a slight broken voice. He sounds vulnerable, fragille, and for the first time in his twenty one years of life, he doesn’t mind. “I want you to.”

As soon as his words leave his mouth, Ushijima’s lips extend in a tiny smile —a genuine gesture that not even Oikawa being his lover for the past two years has seen a lot of times. A warm tingling flashes across the setter’s face in an instant, his chest fluttering with a feeling he can’t completely recognizes, and his eyes can see nothing but the affection reflected in Ushijima’s intense look.

The kiss between them starts with soft moves, as if they were caressing each other with their wet lips. There is no smashing nor bitting or smirks: they just stay kissing slowly for a while, with a lot of gentles touches and stolen looks that are full with genuine feelings. It’s not until Ushijima’s left hand circles the setter’s still hard dick, that Oikawa’s remembers what they were doing in the first place. His thighs tremble and his abs clenches painfully, a sudden flood of blood rushing into his groin, making his already hard member twitch in anticipation. He does nothing to hide the eager moan that colides against the other’s hot mouth, an evidence that even with the sweet intimate moment between them, there’s still lust and excitement rushing in his veins.

“Fuck,” he breathes, husky and needy, panting against his boyfriend’s thin lips. “I-“

The taller male shushes him without losing his patience, and Oikawa answers with another whimper when Ushijima’s thick fingers move over his perineum, down to his still wet entrance that clenches and throbs just with the soft rubbing of the spiker’s fingertips. He needs it, desperately wants it, because even if he tries to wait and let Ushijima takes his time, his demanding, fiery side is still a part of him. Oikawa doesn’t like to wait, and Ushijima knows that, so it’s not a surprise when the spiker’s fingers finally pokes the brunette’s little pucker, making him shudder involuntary and realese a satisfied hum of approval.

In another situation, Oikawa would be hurrying him, testing the other’s patience just to get what he wants, throwing insults and other degradatory words just to tease Ushijima. But right now he doens’t feel the urge of being his usual self, not when Ushijima’s mouth has moved to his neglected neck, kissing and bitting it with no force at all while his nose exhales hot air against the setter's sensitive skin.

“The tournament is over,” the spiker murmurs, casually, nipping at the setter’s soft skin just above his collarbone. “And we won, Tooru. We did it, just like I promised to you three years ago.”

Oikawa frowns at the words, not understanding why Ushijima decided that this was the correct moment to talk about their victory (because he’s really happy about it, but that is not the point). But he doesn’t want to argue, not when Ushijima’s index finger is pressing against his barely dilated hole while his rough thumb plays with his balls.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says quietly and closes his eyes, letting go a long sigh, “The world is ours now, Wakatoshi.”

“It is,” the taller male agrees, his voice sounding lower than ever, ”We are unstoppable.”

He’s about to give him a reply when one of Ushijima’s fingers suddenly inserts into his tight, wet hole, making him groan and tense for a second. His muscles tightens automatically around the spiker’s thick finger, cramping and sucking as if they wanted to keep it there even though his insides are burning because of the rough stretch. He’s still spit-slicked and slightly prepped, but there is no comparison between Ushijima’s wet tongue and his thick, long digit that is already stroking his walls, moving in and out at a maddening slow pace.

Oikawa’s lips are sealed in a thin line, refusing to let out the obscene moans that threatens to escape because of the harsh, addictive pain that is gushing in his tight core. It hurts, it always does at the start, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. Because in fact, he likes when Ushijima pulls his hair, when the ace’s hands circle around his throat while his hips are crushing the setter’s already abused arse, or when his hands slaps Oikawa’s trembling buttocks as he fucks him from behind. He likes it when it hurts, when he feels humillated and like nothing more than a fuckhole to Ushijima, so even though his boyfriend still has trouble working his finger inside his twitching insides, he opens his mouth only to give him another command.

“Another,” he pants, voice almost inaudible. “I can take another, just –fuck, just, hurry up, please.”

“You’re too tight,” Ushijima says calmly, but there’s something in his face that doesn’t match with his monotone voice, “It won’t fit.”

“Then go and get the lube, now” he orders again, but quickly remembers that he should be keeping his composure, that Ushijima doesn’t want to ruin him tonight. “Please,” he adds barely in a whisper, looking at him with pleading —and totally not demanding— eyes.

He isn’t sure if it’s because of his lewd, pathetic image or just because of Ushijima’s huge lust, but the ace’s quickly pulls out his finger and does as he’s been told. And Oikawa doesn’t mind the reason, really. He just wants to be fucked right now.

The setter just lays and waits, trying to calm his heart back to its regular beating. His cock is throbbing painfully and his insides are fluttering with need, with the desire of being used again (and again). Fortunately, Ushijima is fast and wastes no time in coming back to his previous place between the brunette’s pale legs, holding with one hand the small bottle of lube and a condom packet just in case. Oikawa feels weird —he’s not used to being patient and he still feels the mild urge of using his filthy mouth just to rile up his always-stoic boyfriend, but the situation is not completely unpleasant. On the contrary, his (big) soft side might be enjoying it a little too much.

“Please,” he repites, pausing just to wet his dry lips. His eyes are still glued to Ushijima’s. “Wakatoshi.”

Satisfied, the taller male nods silently as he begins to coat his fingers with the sticky, sweet flavoured lube that is one of Oikawa’s favorites. The setter’s eyelashes falls to his rossy cheeks in anticipation and when Ushijima’s slicked fingers pad at his clenching hole, he frowns dramatically and opens his mouth just to cast a soft gasp. His erect member flutters again and his hips bucle against Ushijima’s hand, shamelessly looking for more than just a slight rub on his sensitive flesh.

Ushijima may disagree with him a lot and maybe they don’t seem to talk the same idiom on a daily basis, but sure he can understand perfectly fine Oikawa’s body language. So when the setter’s hips begin to shake and his back arches slightly, Ushijima seems to get the urgent message with no effort. He works him open with ease, massaging and scissoring the warm, soaked walls that clamps continously around his thick fingers. Meanwhile, his right hand slowly pumps Oikawa’s erection, wetting it with lube and the setter’s own precum that is leaking from its reddish tip. Oikawa, who’s not used to being a _pillow princess_ , doesn’t know what to do with his impatient hands, so he puts them over Ushijima’s wet messy hair, caressing him from the top of his head to the base of his neck.

“Wakatoshi.” His cock swells one more time when Ushijima’s now soft golden gaze looks at him with confusion. “What are you waiting for, _jackass_?”

Contradicting his own words, he gives him a tiny, playfully smile with no intentions of hurting his boyfriend. There is a softness in his chocolate eyes that not even Ushjima —being the big, dense guy that he is, can ignore. Furthermore, his slender fingers haven’t stopped playing with the other’s short olive hair, and soon his right hand slides to Ushijima’s left cheekbone, leaving soft touches with his digits still covered in sports tape.

Ushijima’s lips twitch at their corners, and Oikawa wants to believe that he had made his well-composed boyfriend smile.

He’s left with the sudden feeling of emptiness in his insides, but Ushijima quickly replaces it with the hard, delicious sensation of being torn apart in one instant. The younger had sinked in in just one long, deep thrust, forcing the soaked walls to expand and reciving him until the base of his erection is kissing the setter’s flushed rim and his hard balls are resting against Oikawa’s buttocks. Whimpering softly, Oikawa arches his back, his hands now pulling and scratching the blankets under him as if this would help him decreasing the intense pain in his sore passage. He is not surprised by the lack of latex between them, and he’s glad that this time Ushijima forgot to put on a condom, because he doesn’t like them anyway (what’s the use of being fucked if he’s not going to get filled to the brim, he thinks).

His insides are burning, clasping down around the other’s hot, thick length. But this is not a impediment to Oikawa Tooru, whom likes to be fucked rough and fast even if he ends up bleeding and making Ushijima feel bad for it (this had happened only a few times before, and though Oikawa couldn’t properly play for an entire week after that, it was totally worth it). So, he puts aside his pain and decides to ignore the little voice inside his head that tells him that he should wait, beginning to move his hips against Ushijima’s pelvis without warning, humping slowly against his boyfriend’s big girth as a green (and very lewd) sign to continue.

He feels thankful with Ushijima and his eternal concern about the brunette’s health, but right now the last thing he needs (wants) is to stay still and waiting again.

“Oikawa…” the spiker says, visibly worried. He seems to be in an internal conflict between fucking the hell out of Oikawa and waiting for him to adjust at the intrusion, because his motionless hips are tense but his engorged dick is shaking painfully inside the setter. But Oikawa clearly has other plans, because his own hips are still fucking themselves in the ace’s cock.

“I don’t care,” he stutters, panting, trying his best to maintain his blank expression while his inner walls are being teared roughly with each move of his persistent hips, “Just move.”

“But-”

“Please,” he insists, sharpening his soft gaze into a more intimidanting one. “Just do me”.

A big, frustrated huff gets out from Ushijima’s nostrils, knowing he can’t argue against a very-desperate-to-get-fucked Oikawa. Broad hands claspes around the smaller man’s hips, forcing him to stay still automatically. And just before Oikawa can whine in protest, Ushijima finally begins to fuck him, setting a slow, precise rhythm that makes the brunette purrs contently, pleased and relieved although his puffed rim is burning and his walls are clenching and unclenching awfully.

It’s a matter of time before the initial pain transforms into a delicious, intoxicating pleasure, his tight walls finally giving up and gladly welcoming Ushijima’s fat length between them. Ushijima had covered his own erection with lube just before pressing his cockhead against the brunette’s entrance, so even with the initial resistence of Oikawa’s inner walls, the friction wasn’t especially difficult.

If there is something Oikawa can admire from Ushijima, it’s the way the spiker fucks him —fast, hard and with a lot of control, just as he plays volleyball. It doesn’t last long before the ace breaks his promise of ‘taking his time’ and lets his thrusts become deeper and more powerful, making clear why he is one of the strongest athletes in Japan. Oikawa loves every part of it –loves the way Ushijima angles his hips just to smash the tip of his huge cock against the deepest parts of him, loves the sharps thrusts that makes his lithe body tremble on the tangled blankets of their shared bed, loves the vulgar sound of the wet flesh slapping over and over while the lube inside him is sloshing along with the precum that is leaking from the spiker’s fat cockhead.

“Fuck, your cock,” the smaller male pants, grunting at a certain, potent hit that just grazed the most sensitive spot inside him. His dick is throbbing painfully with need, slapping against his own hard abdomen with every strong thrust from the other’s hips. He knows he’s close because he can sense the intense rush of blood slowly pooling in his navel, gathering deliciously at the base of his pulsating length. And just because he is a bit selfish and clearly wants to cum soon, doesn’t mean he likes to do it before Ushijima (his prideful self still sees this as a failure, and he has never liked losing). So he just lets run his filthy mouth, knowing that his boyfriend can’t resist to his lewd words even if the spiker is not particularly a pervert man (at least not as much as Oikawa is).

“Your fucking cock is filling me so well, ohh” he adds rapidly, flexing his back deliberately and taking his own rock hard member in his hand. The corners of his lips are stretched in a lascivious smile and his hungry yet captivated eyes are glued to Ushijima’s concentrated face, trying to lure him with his natural charms. “You feel so damn good inside me, you have no idea”.

A deep, sharpen growl is expelled from the taller man’s lips, and his hips quiver hard, swollen member pounding and wetting even more Oikawa’s still tight passage. The smaller male rewards him by compressing his own walls, indulging him with his hot, slicked heat. The filthy action makes Ushijima groan again and to Oikawa it’s ridiculous how easy it was riling him up, just with a few vulgar words and the delicious clench of his soaked hole.

Ushijima is not a man of many words, so Oikawa is not taken aback by the younger’s lack of reply to his nasty provocations. He knows he’s in charge of the talking while his boyfriend fucks him restlessly, claiming every inch of his cramped insides.

“Y-yes, just like that,” he groans, deforming his sweaty face in a excited frown when Ushijima hits his prostate again, sending a full load of hot, fast waves of pleasure through the setter’s overwhelmed body. “F-fuck, again, d-do that again,” he whispers more like a pray than a demand, fastening his previously lazy strokes around his own cock.

Ushijima obeys without protest, slamming hard against the setter’s buttocks again and again, his hips jerking and stuttering as a warning of his incoming orgasm. With each hit of the other’s girth, Oikawa’s sweet spot is abused and rammed, marked by Ushijima’s fat, leaking cockhead. Suddenly, his mind gets all dizzy and soon his desperate pants transforms into high-pitched moans that end up sounding as a needy, broken whine when he finally spurts his hot seeds all over their chests.

“Shit,” he whispers breathlessly, lifting up his shaking hips and pressing them against the other’s pelvis, clamping down his own contracting walls around Ushijima’s thick member just to milk him already. He closes his eyes as his orgasm takes over him, pure bliss pulsating through his anxious veins, so he doesn’t notice the way Ushijima is looking at him with absolutely adoration in his bright eyes.

“Tooru,” the spiker murmurs, hands caressing Oikawa’s hipbones, in which there are already a few red bruises from the strong grip the taller male kept in there all this time. Ushijima’s thrusts are no longer erratic, but he haven’t stopped them yet. Oikawa finally notices this and though he’s still feels light-headed, he uses his remaining strength to circle his long legs around Ushijima’s hips, locking his feet on the ace’s lower back. It’s not a grip too strong, but it’s enough to prevent Ushijima to slide up from him easily.

“Don’t stop,” He runs a hand wet with his own cum all over the other’s chest, and then he drags his palm to the almost inexistent space between them, right where they are connected with each other. He thumbs roughly Ushijima’s cock as his other digits fondle the other’s hard balls, his own tight hole never ceasing his unsteady spams around the intruder. “Cum in me, ‘ _Toshi_.”

That was the last straw that pushed Ushijima’s self-control to its limits. With a violent stab from his solid hips and a heavy, hoarse moan, he comes deep inside Oikawa’s core, filling him to the brim just as the setter wanted it since the beginning. The brunette’s eyes shut down instantly and a long, thick purr climbs from his chest to his swollen lips. He finally drops his numb legs and hips to the bed, feeling all wasted and tired but still so damn pleased, full with something more than just the hard flesh between Ushijima’s legs.

He only opens his eyes when a pair of warm lips presses against his forehead, where his wet chesnut bangs are displayed all over his flushed skin. Humming, he thightens his arms around Ushijima mid-section, hugging him softly while the spiker fills his face with smooth kisses and soft touches with the tip of his nose. Again, it’s not like Ushijima likes the public displays of affection, so Oikawa makes sure he’s enjoying every second of his boyfriend’s sudden outburst of tenderness.

“I love you,” says Ushijima against the setter’s warm skin, leading his dominant hand to Oikawa’s face just to remove his sweaty bangs from his forehead. He’s not supporting all of his weight over the brunette’s chest, but Oikawa still can feel the heat that his boyfriend irradiates between them. It’s a bit suffocating, but he likes it anyway. “Tooru.”

Oikawa’s lips curl into a tight, little smile, and his fingertips begin to dance over the ace’s firm back, smearing the little drops of perspiration that covers it. Ushijima doesn’t smell anymore like soap or expensive shampoo, and Oikawa thinks he may have a kink for his boyfriend’s filthy sweat (and not anyone’s, because in fact he hates when his teammates infest the dressing room of the gym with their disgusting, testosterone-full odor).

“I know,” his blunt reply is cut off by Ushijima’s gentle mouth.

And then he’s smiling again, not even caring about returning the sweet touch of the other’s lips for a while. Gradually, he lets himself go, and then they kiss each other for so long that he loses the count of how many minutes they have been doing it while their bodies are still connected by a now weak (but still wet and messy) bond.

“You’re disgusting,” he suddenly breaks one of their longest kisses just to make his point.

This time, Ushijima doesn’t seem to understand his silly joke, because he’s now looking at him with small, confused eyes. Oikawa rolls his own, exasperated, but then he closes again the gap between them and kisses him right in the mouth. Again. And again.

“I don’t know why I love you so fucking much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreciated. uwu


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